my life was simpler. More like everybody else. Everything about me is a special case. My birthday. The way I spell (both of) my name(s). My ethnicity. My parents’ ethnicity and nationality. My education. My work history. Nothing about me is ever quite easy to pin down.
So I try to tell people about myself, and it always ends up that I tell the truth and people fill in blanks with what “normally” goes with lots of different truths, and then they have me or facts about my life all wrong and later on I have to correct it and they think I’m contradicting what I said before, only I’m not. I’m just contradicting the assumptions people always make. Because you can’t fill in the blanks with me as a matter of course, you have to get the whole story.
Because nothing about me is ever quite easy to pin down. I guess it’ll just always be that way.